Closing the door behind him and stepping out into the cold, gloomy streets, all he can think of is that Christmas will never be the same again. But his hand goes to the iPhone, and plucks it out of his pocket. Euan McCorkindale doesn’t google hotel accommodation. Instead he hits the Tinder icon, the application he downloaded after leaving Marianne’s in crippling, joyous guilt, in the wee small hours of Christmas Day morning. Already, his cold fingers are quickly scrolling a new future.
4
SPUD – HERE’S TO YOU, MR FORRESTER
A soft Sqezy-boatil heartbreak whine leaks ootay the wee gadge. He needs tae git a trim likesay, ye kin barely see they sparkly wee eyes through yon fur. — Freezin the auld hee-haws oaf here, Toto. Ah’m sorry aboot this, pal, but wi you bein likesay a West Highland terrier, you’ve goat the fur coat, man, ah tells ma boy, curled up at ma feet. Ah feel ehs neb, it’s stane cauld awright, but that’s meant tae be a sign ay canine health. Sometimes ah feel pure bad though, man, like ah’m one ay they gadges thit only gits a dug as an accessory for ma beggin pitch, a sympathy gambit, likesay. N they see Toto n say, — Spud, ah thoat you wir intae cats, man, n ah say, — Aw animals, likesay. N ah tell ye but, it’s pure done ays nae herm huvin Toto. For the beg, n that, ay. People hate tae see animals suffer.
— Bit that wisnae the reason ah goat ye, Toto, it wis mair fir the companionship, ay, pal, ah goes tae um. Ah ken animals cannae make oot what yir sayin, bit they kin detect the vibe, man, they wee bits ay negative body lingo ye gie oot whin yir voice or even think they bad thoats. It’s how the world’s sick, man: that media run by the corporations, spreadin that virus ay bad vibes. That Rupert Murdoch cat in that Sun. Every time ah see a headline in that paper ah just go: aw, man. Ah dinnae like subjectin Toto tae that sortay deal. It’s true but, ye need a wee four-legged buddy tae go through life wi, now that aw the two-legged yins have aw waltzed oaf intae the sunset, ken?
The beg’s gaun no too bad but, the festive period is eywis decent. Cats aw fill ay good cheer n booze, and wi the weather bein that cauld, it sort ay turns aw they indifferent herts, ken?
So ah’m happy wi ma twelve quid sixty-two pence bounty. Four hours in the cauld, still below minimum wage, even if ye do git peyed fir jist standin aroond. It’s funny, but whin ye start the John Greig, ye pit oan that coupon: that sad, baleful pus that screams ‘help ays’ tae the world. By the end ay the mooch, whin the cauld has crept intae yir bones, ye dinnae need tae fake it any mair. So ah’m aboot tae pack up whin ah realise thaire’s a figure standin ower ays. Likesay lingerin, no makin any attempt tae chip a coin intae the auld styrofoam. Ah pure dinnae want tae look up, cause sometimes ye git a radge or a wideo giein ye hassle. But ah hears the friendly tone, — Awright, Spud, so ah raises ma heid.
Man, it’s Mikey Forrester starin doon at ays. — Mikey! How goes? ah asks. Cause ah’ve goat tae say that Mikey boy seems a wee bit doon at heel n aw, wearin a tatty fleece, jeans n trainers. Ah’m kinday surprised, man. The last time ah seen him, the Forrester gadge seemed tae be daein well; aw tin flutes n long coats fae wannabe gangster central.
— Good, Spud, Forrester goes, but ye kin sortay tell the cat’s tryin tae summon as much enthusiasm as he kin, ken? — Ah’ve got a wee bit ay graft, if yir interested. Involves good food and travel. Fancy a pint?
Ah’m aw lugs in this situ, man. — You’ll have tae be the cat in chair, like, Mikey. Ah’m a bit short ay the hirey’s gadgie, ah tells a wee fib. Cannae afford tae use that twelve quid oan beer, man: thaire’s beans n toast fir me n dug food fir Toto tae come ootay yon haul.
— I gathered that.
— They let ye in wi dugs in that place ower the street there, ah points tae the pub.
Mikey nods and we head ower the cobblestanes intae that awfay welcome howf. Ken whin the heat jist blasts oot? Ye cannae beat that, man, even though it’s like the maist miserable time for a wee while, while the body pure adjusts. It’s like that fulum ah saw once whin they wir in space n hud tae wrap up in likesay tinfoil n jump fae one ship tae another, wi nae suits oan or nowt. Even jist a few seconds ay that cauld. It’s the decompression time. Git they hands n taes warmed up. It helps wi Toto curlin up oan ma feet as Mikey shouts up two pints ay San Miguel lager.
When eh sets thum doon oan the table, eh goes, — I’ve gone intae a wee partnership wi Victor Syme, then eh adds in a low voice, — Vic’s back, like.
Ah’m pure no sae keen oan this gig now, man, cause Syme’s well kent as a bad cat, n ah dinnae think it’ll be Mikey that’s runnin the show here. So the wee alarm in ma heid’s gaun: aw-aw, aw-aw…
— Thaire’s decent spondoolays in this, and it’s a piece ay pish.
But, well, let the cat ootline the deal but, man. Does nae herm tae listen tae what the boy’s goat tae say, ay. — Is thaire any chance ay a wee poppy advance oan the fee fir this joab, man? Things been a bit slow, likesay.
— I’m sure we kin work something oot. No want tae hear my proposition first but?
— Eh, aye, ah goes, suppin mair ay the pint. But ah’m awready jumpin aheid ay masel, thinkin thit things are lookin up but, n it’s aboot time the boy Murphy caught a wee brek. Everybody else, even the maist marginalised kittens in the basket, seems tae huv left ays behind. Boot in the hee-haws fir the auld self-esteem, man. No kiddin ye. But tae be wanted again, for anything, it feels barry.
So the Forrester felly is tellin ays that aw ah need tae dae is pick up a wee package and droap it oaf. If ah wis tae git a cash advance ootay Mikey, thaire’s mibbe some new troosers, n a pair ay trainers wi some tread oan thum oot ay it. Ah dinnae ken aboot Mikey but; likesay whether the dude is trustworthy or no. Goat tae dae the fieldwork here, man. — The delivery but, it’s no collies, man, is it? ah asks um. — Cause ah’m no like one ay they drug smugglers, no way, Jose.
Mikey shakes that shaved dome, then runs a hand ower it. It’s like eh tries tae copy aw they gangsters, the likes ay Fat Tyrone n that. — Ah swear, bud, it’s nowt like that, the Forrest Fire explains. — Aw ye need tae dae is fly tae Istanbul and a boy’ll pick ye up at the airport and gie ye a boax tae take tae Berlin oan the train. You git the package thaire, ye gie it tae another boy. Under nae circumstances, and the cat looks awfay, awfay serious, — dae ye try n open the boax.
— Sortay like that fulum, The Transporter?
— Exactly.
— But, eh, what is in it, likesay?
Mikey gies ays a grim smile. Looks around, lowers ehs voice, leans intae ays. — A kidney, Spud. A human kidney: for a life-saving operation.
Uh-oh. Ah’m no sure aboot this, man. — What? Is that no illegal, smuggling body parts, like the invasion ay the bodysnatchers n aw that?
Mikey shakes ehs heid again. — This is aw kosher, buddy boy. We’ve goat a certificate for it, the lot. Ye cannae open the boax cause it’s aw sealed n sterile, wi the kidney packed in ice or some frozen cauld chemical that isnae ice but works like ice.
— It isnae ice?
— Naw, but it works like ice. Like what they’ve invented tae replace ice.
— Replace ice… Whoa, man, no sae sure aboot that. Ice is pure natural like, well, it’s usually made artificially in fridges like, but in its natural state in the polar regions –